


Before Dawn

by jessebee



Series: Moments Between (ROTJ) [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon het relationship mentioned, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Polyamorous Character, Post trauma sexual disfunction mentioned, Post-Canon, Revelations, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9791408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessebee/pseuds/jessebee
Summary: After the battle, the Death Star, and the victory celebration, Han and Luke finally have that talk.  And more.(Missing scene post-canon for RETURN OF THE JEDI)





	

 

 

The third time that night that Leia “retrieved” him, Luke treated Han to what they called “the fishy eye” back home on Corellia. Which meant whatever beverage it was that their “short help” was brewing, it kicked more than he'd realized, because when was the last time Han had thought of Corellia as “home”?

But later for that. Han just grinned at Luke over the rim of his cup and took another swallow. The curiosity would be too much for him eventually, if Han knew his Skywalker.

Which he did.

Both of them.

Both –  of them _._

_Sweet mother of moons._ Han had another drink.

 

 

It happened not even a half hour later. Pleasantly muzzy, Han had migrated down to sitting on the walkway floor in front of the fire, legs kicked out, watching the flames and the dancing still going on at the far side. Luke sat cross-legged on his left, a living line of just-barely-touching that was making Han's skin tingle. Leia had, quite sensibly, opted to stay on the bench behind them. The air smelled of fur and wood-smoke, and over-warm humans, and the tang of fear not yet washed off.

It had wound down to just the three of them. Chewie had bid them goodnight and gone off to wherever it was that he’d slung his hammock. If Han cared to squint, he could make out Lando on the next platform over, involved in some game of chance with various Rebels including Wedge Antilles, whose wallet was going to regret it. Even the droids were elsewhere occupied, Threepio resuming his role as storyteller and Artoo “helping,” for some value of that word.

Now Leia planted a kiss in Han's hair and leaned in between him and Luke. “I'm going to go lay down, boys,” she said, close enough that her voice cut easily through the hubbub around them. She squeezed Han's shoulder until he looked at her. The expression in her beautiful brown eyes said, clear as anything: _I'm making you a chance,_ _here,_ _hotshot, don't_ _fuck_ _it up_ _._ “Try not to drink all the rest of everything here, hmm?”

“Are you okay?” Luke asked, immediately concerned.

“Of course. But I'm tired,” Leia said, turning to him with a smile. “Blowing up bases and then celebrating half the night takes it out of a girl, that's all.”

“We'll walk you back,” Han said, because he wanted to and because it dawned on him that Luke wouldn't have any way of knowing where their Ewok friends had billeted the three of them.

And because he was not getting separated from Luke again. Not tonight.

At the hut's doorway Leia drew Han down for a quick but thorough kiss and another meaningful look. Then she pulled Luke a step or two away and kissed him quickly as well, before she pulled his forehead against hers and whispered something. Then she hugged him, graced both men with another beautiful smile, and disappeared into the little building's interior.

“I think … ” Luke said slowly, gazing after her.

Han looked at him. “Hmm?”

Luke took a breath. “I think I'll take a walk. Why don't you – ”

 _Ha._ _Oh no_ _you don't_ _._ “Come with you? Great idea,” Han said easily. “Whatever our mini-sized help's been fermenting and servin' us, it's good. And strong. A dose of open air wouldn’t hurt.”

Luke's eyebrows rose. “Han, this planet's nothing _but_ open air.”

Han shrugged. “Away from the smoke and noise, some, anyway. C'mon.”

“Han – ”

“C'mon, already. You were the one wanted to walk.”

“Maybe I wanted a moment alone,” Luke said, but he fell into step beside Han.

“Uh-uh.” Han glanced at him. “Ain't the night for 'alone,' and I think you've had enough 'alone' already anyway. Besides, we got, what? A week and six damn months to catch up on?”

Luke was quiet and for some minutes they just walked, the celebration fading until the louder sounds were the forest creatures in the trees around them and their footsteps on the wood-slat bridges. Han breathed deep, pulling in the “greener” open air because he actually could use it, honestly; he’d probably need all the wits he could muster for the coming conversation.

“You know,” Luke said finally, and he sounded tired but there was a distinct edge of humor there as well, “you are not the least bit subtle.”

“Hey now.” Affronted, Han stopped and leaned against a convenient tree trunk and folded his arms across his chest, and eyed his friend. His best human friend. The man he loved, desperately. “I'll have you know,” he said, slow and deliberate, “that your sister thinks I am the soul of tact and discretion.”

Luke caught his breath, his eyes widening. “She told you.”

“She did.”

“When?”

“When I was trying to send you two off into the starshine together, after the – ” Han swallowed suddenly, as that moment hit him all over again. “After the Death Star blew.”

“Send us – ? Han, no.” Luke settled one hip on the walkway's railing where it met the tree trunk and looked at Han, his eyes colorless in the moonglow. “It's not like that.”

“Yeah, well, I know that _now_. 'N that's what she said, when she told me why, but I'll tell you, I don't get how. I mean, how were you two – ?”

“In the usual way, I suppose.” Luke's mouth curved.

Han leaned over and whacked him on the arm. “Very funny.”

The curve flashed up into Luke's sunny grin, but it vanished again. “Obi-Wan said we were separated at birth, to protect us.”

“Obi-Wan said.” Han squinted at him. “When?”

“When I returned to Dagobah, just after we rescued you.”

So, still talking to dead Jedi Masters. Right. Han coughed. “He told you you had a sister.”

“Twin, actually.”

_Well,_ _**that** _ _explains a few things._

“If my father or the Emperor had known we survived, they would have hunted us down to kill us. Or worse: capture and – turn us.” Luke stared out at the forest.

 _Your father._ Han's face creased. “Because – huh? You said years ago your father was dead.”

Luke stilled completely. “He is. Now.”

“Now?” Dammit, was he actually sober enough for this conversation? “Kid, I've had a drink or five, so can we – ?” Wait.

“ … _hunted us down to kill us. Turn us. The Emperor and – my father.”_

_My father._

_Turn._

It landed with all the delicacy of a concussion grenade, smack in the remains of Han’s gentle drunk. If he hadn't been leaning against the tree, he'd have swayed. “You're sayin' – Luke, what the hell are you saying? Anakin Skywalker? Clone War hero? _Didn't_ die when Palps wiped out the Jedi? He – ”

Tall black armor. Mechanical breathing.

Pain.

Luke had wrapped his arms around himself, still staring out into the night, and Han's gaze snagged on the black glove covering Luke's right hand, protecting as-yet unrepaired damage inflicted during Han’s rescue on Tatooine. Luke’s cybernetic hand.

The hand the Dark Lord of the Sith had given him.

Didn’t die.

 _Turned_.

“Vader,” Han got out.

Luke nodded. “Yes,” he said, very softly.

The breath jammed in Han's throat.

“I don't know how, or why, he turned. What I do know is that there was a spark of good in him still.” Finally, Luke looked at him. “I didn't kill the Emperor, Han. Vader did. My – my father did, to save my life. And then died, from what Palpatine did to him.”

Luke slipped off the railing and turned away, toward the other side of the night. The line of his shoulders slumped. “I burned his armor tonight before I came here. There will be no relics. No one will claim that mantle.”

_Vader's –_ _**children** _ _._ _Luke. And Leia. Nine hundred hells, no wonder she_ _couldn't tell me._

“Both the Sith and the Jedi are gone now,” Luke said into the still air. “I'm the last.”

Han stared at his back, at the ebon clothing melding with the night and only the barest gleam of dark blond hair marking where Luke stood.

“Just me.”

The faint whisper just reached Han, something that maybe he wasn't supposed to hear.

 _No_.

Han moved, without thought, the few steps it took and curved both hands over Luke’s shoulders, his chest just touching his friend’s back. Luke’s hair smelled like lightning and harsh, acrid smoke. “No. You're not alone.”

Luke flinched, but didn't pull away. “Han – ”

“ _ **No**_. I don’t care _pudu_ about your father, you can’t choose that. You are _not_ alone, dammit, you've got Leia and you've got me. Yeah, we're not Jedi or whatever, but we love you. She loves you.” Han swallowed.  “I love you.”

There. He'd said it.

Luke's next breath wasn't quite steady. “I know you do, but – ”

“No, you don't get it. I _love_ you, dammit. In every way there is.”

Luke froze. Then he turned sharply around and stared at Han with bright eyes and shocked-open mouth, that annoying Jedi calm nowhere in sight.

Only one way to answer that. Han cupped Luke's face like the precious thing it was, and leaned in, and kissed him. Just a soft press, a tentative “hello.”

The gasp that filled Luke's lungs took Han's breath with it and he let it go, freely given.

Moments or years later, Luke pulled back and looked at him. And there it was again in Luke's eyes, what Han had seen in the _Tydirium’s_ cockpit a thousand years ago: the _more_ and _other_ , glittering in the dim light. But along with that was just – Luke, looking at Han, like he’d looked at Han for years.

It was all right there. Leia had been right.

What Luke saw, Han didn't know, but it must have been enough.

“Han.” Just that, his name breathed out, a wash of warm air against his lips, before strong hands laced into Han's hair and pulled him back down, Luke's mouth opening against his.

The half of his soul Leia didn't already own went to Luke in that kiss, Han'd swear he heard it click into place.

Powerful arms came around Han's neck even as Han wrapped his own around Luke's waist and pulled them together tight.

Luke tasted like fruit wine and destiny and Han never could have escaped this, as much as he'd lied to himself. He'd been lost since blue eyes had spit challenge at him over the table in that dive in Mos Eisley.

Luke sucked on his tongue and a hard shiver rippled everywhere under Han's skin, raising the fine hairs in its backwash. Then he gasped, and moaned in relief as his body finally, _finally_ , woke up, his cock beginning to harden. Gods, yes. _Luke –_

Like he'd heard that, Luke pushed at him again and Han locked his arms to make sure Luke didn't get too far. Oh, there was trouble brewing in those eyes now. “Leia – ”

“Knows, of course,” Han said, and had to smile at how Luke's eyes went wide. “Why'd'ya think she set this up?”

“She – ” Luke's mouth dropped open, wet and luscious. Han wanted to devour him on the spot. “But you’re – we can stop this here, it's not too late – ”

Han laughed softly, because no. “It's been too late for years, kid,” he said, shaking his head. “It was too late the moment I flipped the _Falcon_ around at Yavin. This is just you finally taking me up on it, that's all.”

Luke stared at him. “You never said a word, not one.”

“Well, I hadn't told me yet either.”

Shock, startlement, something else danced with the arousal in Luke's eyes. Then it dissolved, flowing into the curve of his mouth and vanishing as his head went back, his eyes closed and the sound of his laughter rang out – beautiful, bright and open and possibly a little too loud, tension snapping out the only way it could.

Han groaned and let his own head thunk back against the tree. “Yeah, yeah, take your time, whenever you're done there … “

But Luke caught himself after a minute, shaking his head, and his smile softened but didn't fade completely. “How?” he murmured, his gaze searching, his fingers shifting in the hair at Han's nape. “How is this possible?”

And maybe Han wasn't supposed to answer that. But he did anyway. “Don't you believe me?”

“I believe you. I – I can feel it now, I know you do. I just – ” Luke shook his head again but it wasn't denial, just amazement. “It's, I mean – you love Leia.”

Han shrugged, running his hands up and down Luke's back. “I do, but you came first, even though I didn't see it. And there's no reason love's gotta be an 'either / or' thing, y'know; on my – on Corellia, a lotta times it's not. And you love her too.”

“I do, but not like – ”

“No, I know. But you love her.”

Luke took a breath. “And that confused me, too, at first. Because there was you – and yet there was her, but – ” A shift of shoulders in the dark, moonshine lighting his eyes and the pale fabric where his shirt fell open. “I loved her, I thought – I knew I _felt_ for her but it wasn't – like that. Like this. I don't _want_ her.”

The sudden tingle ran like an unchecked energy flow all over Han's skin. “But you do want me,” he said, rough. “Like that.” And swallowed at the way Luke's eyes kindled.

“Oh yes,” Luke said, voice gone low. He touched Han's face with his left hand, roughened fingertips spannin the distance from lips to temple and tracing the line of Han's eyebrow. “Oh, yes.” He closed the gap between them and pressed himself against Han.

Han's breath hitched at the feel of him, of Luke's body against his own, the proof of desire solid and unmistakable against Han's thigh.

“Do you believe me?” Luke asked, raspy, from barely two inches away.

Han grinned, fiercely, setting it against the pressure of need suddenly climbing hot up his throat, because the cocky little son of a bantha was _challenging_ him. “Convince me,” he growled, and dug his fingers back into Luke's hair and kissed him hard.

Luke pushed him the last inches and plastered Han against the tree behind him, Luke's body vibrant against his front and the tree bark rough against Han's back, even through the vest. Thoughtlessly Han sprawled his legs and let his knees bend, shifting just enough to cancel out the different in their heights, and put both hands on Luke's ass.

Two groans vibrated the air and Luke tore out of the kiss and pressed his face into Han's neck. Han felt the warm air of Luke's gasp against his ear but lost the sound in that of his own moan because sweet gods below, _yes_. “Krif but you feel good,” he rasped out, throat tight with the thrill of Luke's cock nestled against his own.

“So do you,” Luke whispered harshly. “Gods. I want you,” he said, grinding his hips into Han's. “Now.”

 _ **Yes**_ hovered dangerously on Han's tongue, but – “Not here. Hells, yes, but not here in the open.” Because he still heard the sounds of revelry, which meant they were way too close.

“Public sex not your thing?” Luke ground again and twisted this time and Han's eyes nearly crossed, his breath shoved out in a harsh gasp.

“Don't bait me, junior, not here and now.” Han grabbed Luke's waist and pushed him back, even though it felt like tearing part of his own skin away. “Not this time, d’ya get me? Not with _you_ , the first time. Nobody but _us_.”

A shaky half-smile pulled at Luke's mouth, his control clearly as tenuous as Han's own. “I get you,” he breathed. “Where?”

Han took a sharp look around. “There,” he said, nodding at the shape of a hut not far away. “C'mon.”

They made it by dint of half-dragging each other along, or maybe it was Luke's Force doing the pushing, Han didn't know and cared even less. All that mattered was that the hut was empty and obviously abandoned.

The hole in the roof thatch gave enough light to find the big platform that might have once been a bed, enough light to get rid of Luke's belt and unfasten his friend's black shirt. Their hands tangled as Luke's fingers unbuckled Han's belt as well, Han's breath soughing hard as strong fingers skimmed his inner thigh. Then the vest was shoved from his shoulders and Luke opened Han's shirt and ran his hands over Han's chest, fingers spreading out and gripping, and Luke hooked his leg behind Han's knees, twisted, and took them both down.

Luke cushioned the fall with his own body and rolled, putting Han beneath him into a mass of something reasonably soft, lichen or maybe moss of some kind. Breathless, Han stared a moment up at the tattered roof before his eyes closed and his mouth dropped open as Luke kissed and licked at his neck, biting at his collarbone, shoving the shirt aside to get at more of him.

Han dug his own hands beneath Luke's shirt and wallowed in the reality of warm skin, _Luke's_ skin, under his fingers. Greedy for more, he found Luke's waistband and skimmed around it to the front, found the fastener at the waist and popped it open. With a groan, Luke shifted, arching up enough for Han to work the rest of the fasteners open and – “There,” Han breathed, delighted, because there'd only been that one layer of fabric. “There you are.”

Luke's breath hitched as Han handled him, a gentle rub downward and a tight slide back up, skin silky and hot, foreskin slipping over the rock-hard shaft. He moaned in Han's ear and jerked as Han brushed a finger over the tip, a tiny bit of moisture already pushing out. Han couldn't help the grin; Luke wanted him, all right.

“You too,” Luke growled. “You too, now, I want to feel you – ”

“Stay there a minute.” Reluctantly Han let him go and made short work of his own pants fasteners, hissing at the rub of his own fingers against his groin. But a little wriggling got his pants open and his underwear pushed down to his thighs, and Han sighed in relief as his cock sprang free.

Luke settled down over him, evidently just enough give in those black trousers to let him spread his legs on either side of Han's, and they both groaned this time as they lined up perfectly. Fire centered in Han's crotch and lanced out down his legs and up his spine as Luke's weight sank him further into whatever the spongy mass beneath him was.

“ _Yes_. Han,” Luke groaned, breathless, next to Han's ear, as he shifted his hips in a slow grind against Han's and rubbed them together.

The friction was purely amazing, and this was a stupidly basic, juvenile way to make out and Han hadn't done anything with this little finesse in kriffin' _years_ , where nobody'd even managed to get out of their damn clothes, and _he didn't care_. Not one Sithbedamned iota did he care, because this was Luke. Luke against him, on top of him, as lustfully eager as Han was, breathing Han's name into the skin of his jaw as they moved, Han meeting Luke's thrusts, finding a workable rhythm.

Han got one hand inside Luke's pants and cupped that ass, squeezed, delighting in the gasp that got him. Luke had braced himself more or less on his arms either side of Han's torso. Now he shifted upward and increased the force of his thrusts, driving himself harder against Han's cock and abdomen, reaching for lift-off and pulling Han right along with him.

Jolts of electricity swarmed like live things low in Han's belly, sparking flashes up his backbone, rippling out and firing every inch of his skin and back again to pool between his thighs, enough energy that he was distantly surprised the room around them wasn't alight. “Oh gods.” He was breathing nothing but Luke now, sweat and musk beginning to drown the earlier fire and fear. “Luke. Luke – ”

Luke raised his head and Han dug his fingers into tangled hair, damp at the nape. Harder to see in the dim but there was something desperate on that beautiful face and that wasn't right. “I'm here,” Han breathed, tightening his grip, giving what shelter he could. “'m right here. Not leaving you,” because it was nothing but the helpless truth. He'd never leave again, not either of them.

A rough sound deep in Luke's throat and Han pulled him down and kissed him, putting everything he had into it because there was nothing he had left that wasn't Luke's now, anyway. Another low sound that might have been Han's name, lost but saved where their mouths joined, becoming a new thing between them, and something in Luke relaxed in some tiny, critical way.

Joy in his kiss now, joy and desire and a happier lechery. Luke plundered him, eating at him, nipping at Han's lips and the point of his jaw and back to his mouth, tongue plunging deep, kissing him until Han could barely breathe.

Luke's hips moved faster, the flex and surge of muscle under Han's hand more pronounced, skin gone slick with sweat, and Han answered, straining harder up against him. The tension increased as they climbed the hill together, the peak not far off now, Han felt the familiar gathering low down between his legs, coiling around his spine, building, building.

Luke pulled back to mouth at Han's jaw, his cheekbone, not as much a kiss now as a bid for air, panting hot against Han's face. Han pried his eyes open – no idea when he'd closed them – because he had to see this. He had to see Luke's face.

He used fingers still knotted in Luke's hair to urge him up just far enough, swallowed at the sight of blown-dark eyes and face tight with that most delicious agony of all. For Han. _With_ Han. “I love you,” Han whispered, and took his mouth again.

Luke made a growling kind of sob deep in his chest and his rhythm fell apart, short sharp thrusts jabbing hard at Han's abdomen, throwing sparks. And then he froze and Han saw, _felt_ him come, felt the wet pulse against his own skin, saw the convulsion throw Luke's head back and rip out of him with a shout to the sky.

So beautiful, but only seconds to absorb it before Han’s own sight went actinic white, his eyes slamming shut as climax roared through him, triggered by Luke's, and shook him half-apart.

Han came back to himself limp and trembling, the release of tension so great it paradoxically left him shivering. Luke was near-dead weight on top of him, and Han found he'd wrapped his arms tight around Luke's back to keep him there. Luke's head was tucked into Han's shoulder and Han turned his own head in a slow caress, rubbing his cheekbone against Luke's hair. Damp and something gritty in among the strands; Luke needed a wash, they both of them did, no doubt.

Han smiled. That could be fun.

He breathed deep as he could, the smells of old wood and something dusty like grass becoming known now, along with sweat and semen and musk and the wonderful scent that was him and Luke together, and the faintest hint of ozone. A nightbird called out from somewhere, and far below them, water was running.

Han flexed his fingers and began to run them slowly down Luke's spine, counting vertebrae like priceless treasure. A deeper breath expanded Luke's chest and he murmured something, just a soft blur of sound, and his body twitched as if he might move. Han flattened both hands across his back. “Hm-mm, you stay put.”

The blur formed words this time, hoarse, as if Luke had been screaming. “'m heavy, lemme move?”

“Don't you dare.” Han smiled again. “You're good.”

“ … Han.”

“Shh.”

That got him a poke in the ribs, which just reinforced his smile.

After another few minutes Luke did move, but only to shift to one side far enough to take some of his weight off Han's chest. An arm and one leg stayed firmly across, as of a right, and Luke let out a long sigh that blew warm across Han's collarbones.

“All right?” Han murmured, transferring his attentions from spine to arm.

“Mmm. You?”

“Oh yeah.” _All_ _right_ didn't even start to cover it. “Can't nap here, though,” Han added, sadly, after another minute or two. “Oughta get back to Leia sometime before morning.”

Luke sighed again. “We should.”

Something in his voice … “But – what?”

“Nothin’. Just – 's a relief, that's all.”

Han's brows creased. “Relief.”

Luke moved a little. “Just … “

Now a touch of unease did creep into Han's contentment, and he reluctantly gathered up some wits and beat the lethargy out of them. “What?”

Yet another sigh, but this one sounded almost – embarrassed? “Just – I haven't been – interested, for a while, that's all.”

Interested?

“A long while, actually.”

Inter – oh. Oh.

Han's eyes widened, and a wry twist took his mouth. Indeed. “I can relate. First time in a while for me, too; since the – the freeze, in fact,” he said, still rubbing his fingers along Luke's arm, taking refuge in the warmth beneath the fabric. Trauma could do that, and it wasn't the first time it'd happened to him. Probably not the moment to mention that Leia'd been pretty understanding about it, either.

Luke shifted his arm beneath Han's fingers, turning it until his hand lay in view on Han's chest. His right hand, the cybernetic one, still clad in that black glove. Covering blaster damage from the rescue, Luke had said earlier, that he hadn't had time to get fixed yet.

Luke curled his fingers into a loose fist even as Han watched, the leather a more solid shadow in the dark. “It's been – longer for me. A lot longer.”

It only took a second. Han's jaw dropped and a cold little thrill ran through him. Six _months?_ And more? A couple of weeks was one thing – half a damn standard year was enough to send any human male to the silly station. Han swore, fervently, and wrapped his own hand around Luke's. The black leather was warm to the touch. “I'm sorry. That's – hells, that's rough.”

Luke shifted up on one elbow and looked down at him. He was a gorgeous mess, hair everywhere and his shirt hanging open, and just enough light for Han to make out the softening expression on his face. “It's all right now. And I can hire you out as a miracle cure.”

“Ah, no,” Han said, and Luke grinned. Han let go of his hand and reached up instead to pick a bit of twiggy stuff out of Luke's hair. Then he let his hand fall until he could run his thumb lightly along the pronounced cleft in his friend's, his _lover's_ chin. He'd wanted to do that for – a long time. “That service is only open to two people from here on out.”

Luke's expression shifted again, to something more intent. When he bent his head and fitted his mouth to Han's, it felt distinctly like a promise.

Han closed his eyes and savored it – the gentle play of lips and tongues, hints of earlier food and drink gone now leaving only the taste of Luke himself, a little sour and very, very real. It was the kind of kiss that went slow, and steady, and left no stone unturned.

When it ended about half a year later, Han blinked his eyes open to see Luke smiling at him, soft and open and unshadowed. Han reached up and traced the curve of it with one finger, and smiled back. “C’mon,” he murmured. “Let’s go tell Leia the good news.”

Luke’s smile turned possibly rueful and maybe just a little tiny bit wicked. “I suspect – ”

_Uh-oh._

“ – that she already knows.”

 

*

*

*

 

 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I think we've hit the end of the road ... for now, at least. There are not enough thanks in the world to give to culturevulture73 and HollyC, who aid and abet and just damn-well put up with me.


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